Between Vows
by Mayumi Sato
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt, a wedding planner, naturally isn't a guy used to working several times for the same client. Except for Roderich Eldestein, a very pragmatic man, who is always getting engaged to all sorts of people, divorcing for all sorts of reasons and contracting Gilbert to plan each one of his wedding parties. All that in a relatively short amount of time.
1. Chapter 1

T/N: "Um dia é da caça e outro é do caçador" = "One day is the day of the hunter and the other is the day of the prey.". It has the same meaning of the expression "Every dog has his day."

Chapter 01.

"I'm not a romantic, Mr. Beilschmidt. A marriage must be a social arrangement beneficial for both parties. It needs to be convenient and comfortable, not melodramatic and saccharine. Love is not an essential element in a relationship, don't you agree?"– Some may say that's bullshit, but I guarantee that I can remember vividly the moment when the young lord abruptly made this confession. It was our first month organizing the event,at five in the afternoon and we were alone in what would be, in the next morning, the wedding reception hall for a different client. My last job before I devoted myself exclusively to the aristocrat for the next coming months. I was doing my tasks and arranging the recently-delivered white rosesin vases and he, as usual, was watching me in a chair, at a distance, for no particular reason. We were silent for some time and that question came out of nowhere.

Well, this wasn't the first time that I had heard that viewpoint. That historically inaccurate claim that "Marrying for love is such a old way of thinking!" accompanied by an contradictory concern for choosing a dress the groom would love or worrying about the possibility that the band wouldn't play 'their song' had appeared a few times, and it was always a curious thing to hear, though not unusual. I interacted with too many brides and grooms to keep bothering with the marital problems of each couple.

However, that aristocrat's statement was practically recorded in HD quality in my memory. That was somewhat unexpected, I admit, although it was not as impressive as he wished. In general, the people who said "A marriage doesn't need love!" were men who had had a wild sex life in the old days and wanted to preserve some of their "honor" by communicating indirectly that "No! I didn't become one these guys that I used to tease in the past! I'm getting married because it's more practical for me, not because I turned into a sentimental fool! I swear!". Heh! It was hilarious! There were also those who said it because their bride or groom were so unbearably annoying that it would be humiliating to confess that they had fallen in love with that thing. They felt the involuntary need to justify their relationship to humanity, and, in certain cases, I would agree that they really should.

Roderich Eldestein, my fancy client, didn't fit in either of these two profiles. He was marrying a joyful fellow named Antonio and, man, I swear that guy was so cool that he would give his house to you if you asked with a "pretty please". The aristocrat didn't have to justify to anyone why he was marrying Antonio, since almost all members of my team were willing to marry Antonio too. What can I say? Just like my awesome self, Mr. Carriedo was one of those irresistible guys. Oh, it's a gift and a curse. Continuing my line of reasoning, yeah, he didn't need to explain himself, neither do I need to comment how hilarious it would be to think about the young master as a cheap seducer. Roderich waking up in unknown beds and bragging about how many he banged at a party? Pffff! Just with this very thought, I have to control myself to not cry out laughing!

Taking all of these considerations in account, I was somewhat surprised by his statement, sure, but not as shocked as the young lord would like. I don't know, dude, I think that he was waiting for me to slip out a scandalized "Oh! How dare you say such a thing, Eldestein?! You are about to get married!"He thought he was starring in a big scene and all that. Too bad for him that we weren't in a opera by Puccini. When he made his more-repetitive-than-he-assumed speech, I just asked, finding the situation quite funny:

"And your fiancé is aware of this?" I raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile forming on one of the edges of my face. 'Social arrangement'. Man, the young master came up with some really interesting lines. He couldn't open his mouth without making me laugh. "Have you already discussed the terms of the contract? Signed a treaty? Talked with the legal authorities?"

In response, he narrowed his eyes, staring at me as if to identify a type of insect.

"You're not reacting in the right way," he complained with an offended pout.

See? He probably wanted to make a big scene and became frustrated with the fact that it wasn't so easy to shock the amazing me. To his disappointment, I didn't even move from my position. I remained kneeling before the vases of flowers that I was arranging, only adding a note of amusement in my expression and slightly inclining my head to the side.

"Well, Roderich, what the hell do I have to do with this?" I shrugged, still smiling and keeping my hands working. "I am a wedding planner, not a fairy of love! Do you see me sighing dreamily as I organize this stuff?" My smile grew a few degrees to the left and my gaze distilled all my sense of the ridiculous as to that hypothesis. "Of course not. Do you know why? Because, personally, I have nothing to do with love and weddings and don't give a damn about what my clients think about it."

Throughout my triumphant speech, as if he wanted to fight back my previous lack of surprise, the young lord remained impassive. Oh yeah. This forced indifference could only be a kind of childish vengeance, since receiving the revelation that the person who is doing the preparations of your wedding is not a sentimental or a great admirer of love and its variants, is not a very common event.

I mean, I've never used eye-drops to create tears, pretending to have emotions that, in reality, I considered comical, but it was not like I could show that skeptical side to my clients often. To be honest, I've never been sure what motivated me to reveal só much to the aristocrat. We just had this mutual effect. You know, the effect of erasing any need of impressing each other, which spontaneously caused events like this one.

Due to my knowledge that Rod couldn't care less about what I thought of him and that he was aware that I wasn't bothered with whatever he thought about me, I concluded that he would end up a bit angry and complain of 'My rude and immature sense of humor!', staring down at me while adjusting the position of his glasses

Interestingly, this didn't happen. As I mentioned, instead of making his characteristic expression 'Beilschmidt, you big fool!', he left his appearance more neutral than normal throughout all of my speech; and that's saying a lot because his face was already abnormally neutral. Also, instead of taking the offensive, he was quiet for few seconds longer than necessary.

I can't imagine what went on in the mind of the young master at that moment. I can only say that when he finally expressed himself, his words were even more incredible than I had imagined:

"Your lack of poetic sensibility is mortifying." was his comment, with a disapproving slant to his mouth. I'm not even joking here. **He** was complaining about **my** lack of poetic sensibility! Pffff!

Goddamnit, Rod!

"Says the guy who just called his wedding a 'social arrangement' out of an anthropology class!" I cried, laughing way too hard, my eyes widening with a mixture of wonder and fun, admiring his formidable audacity. Then, lowering my eyes and my astonishment level, I went back to what I was saying "However, organizing a wedding depends on aesthetic knowledge, budget and contacts. It doesn't involve the ability to cry watching 'A walk to remember'. I won't have any concern with your feelings if you keep them from affecting the flowers and the buffet. Ah! And especially that damned statue of ice of yours! It took a lot of work to get that freaking thing!"

He appeared to be satisfied with this answer, since, from that point on, he began to demand that I work faster and ended our prior discussion. That was just fine by me.

Seriously, I had nothing to do with Rod's emotions and thoughts or whatsoever.

But Roderich never learned it. For this reason, we reached our tipping point.

* * *

><p>I had this conversation with Roderich before his first wedding. In six years, I would organize a total of three weddings for him.<p>

Unbelievable, right? When he said he wasn't marrying for love, he was not bluffing. On the other hand, it seemed that his method of joining hands for pure convenience was in need of some serious revisions.

His first marriage was with Antonio Carriedo, a great person. He said his reason for marrying Carriedo - despite the very noticeable contrast between their personalities and even though their relationship was more friendly than romantic - was because Antonio was rich, stupid and could provide a comfortable life to him ... Yes, yes, can you believe that Rod almost threw one of the desserts samples at me when I said that this was the same reasoning of an single woman of the fifties? Totally unfair.

Rod and I had a moderate number of interactions in that first year. He hired me six months before the wedding and everything was rather quickly resolved. However, there was enough time for me to meet him occasionally and learn more about that aristocratic personality. I discovered, for example, that he was a real expert in desserts and knew how to prepare some that could seriously serve as my payment (and this was information that I could never, never allow to reach him), that he boasted that whole aura of sophistication but was more disorganized than a six year old's room, that he was a composer of soundtracks for introspective films and that he liked traditional decorations. Among other small things.

Then, six months passed and I left him in the hands of his fiancé, ending our association with a party as fantastic as would be expected of something produced by such a amazing person as myself. I confess, however, that I was a little ... I don't know. I didn't enjoy being there.

I had few encounters with the aristocrat and due to the short time-frame I received for planning, we spent most of the time running and screaming at each other ... We were not exactly the best picture of cooperation between a groom and a wedding planner. Heh! To be honest, I think that if anything, we were closer to being the worst example of cooperation between a groom and a wedding planner.

Still, part of me regretted that my job had ended. He was such a unique person, that young lord. Being with him was always a comic and strangely fascinating experience.

I concluded that our relationship would end there. Wedding planners and grooms don't usually become friends. Business were business.

Two years later, guess who shows up in my office while I was sitting at the table dealing with budgets? Roderich Eldestein, ladies and gentleman. I was so honestly confused that I ended up joking:

"Oh. Mr. Fancy Pants! So you already have come to request my services for the marriage of your adopted son?" I extended my hand in a mocking gesture, giving one of my most sordid half-smiles as a gift of welcome. "The time surely passes fast! I remember your wedding as if it had happened two years ago!"

When I saw the aristocrat crossing his arms over his chest tightly in response, as if carrying a heavy suitcase, and transforming that usually indifferent expression in a subtly disapproving one, so typical of him, those two years suddenly felt ike a mere moment. Technically, when two people meet again after a long separation, there should be an initial strangeness. And that wasn't our case. When I saw the young lord, I felt transported to the past, as if all those days apart didn't have any influence on us, as if we were somehow immune to the flow of the time.

Probably with the same feelings, he sighed and gave an answer that absolutely didn't match with a touching scene:

"Frankly, I fail to understand how you still have customers, if that's how you greet them," he proclaimed with his usual complete-apathy-that-was-still-strangely-recriminatory-at-the-same-time.

Ah! How I missed that proud pseudonoble!

"I have clients because I am the best and they know it." I started to turn in my chair and moved my shoulders and my hands slightly upward in a gesture that intended to demonstrate my immense disregard for a question with such a simple answer. "I can't help if you don't understand my advanced sense of humor, young lord! How pitiful!" I closed my eyes and smiled with false complacency. "Very sad, indeed! I'm gonna cry thinking about you tonight!" After laughing abundantly at my clever sarcasm and laughing even more at the sourness that it generated in that noble figure, I wiped my eyes, finally ready to go to business. "Now, seriously, who is my customer?"

"I am your customer, you fool," he said impatiently, clearly conveying a message of I-can't-believe-that-you-really-haven't-noticed-it-yet in his expression of exhaustion with my existence, that didn't required any other body language.

And maybe he had a legitimate reason to be impatient with me, considering that, even though he had been more explicit than Kate Winslet's last movies, that didn't prevent my mind from saying "HOLD ON A SECOND!" and then stopping abruptly

Wait. Wait. Wait.

I am a wedding planner. I work with wedding parties. And Rod is looking to hire me.

Roderich is married, isn't him? Heck, Gilbert, of course he is. You organized his great and magnificent wedding party. He's married.

… Or he waaaaaas married?

My eyes darted to his left hand and, as if he knew what I would do, he opened it, making the movements of a king cleaning the hand that was kissed by a commoner. There was no ring in that hand. However, there was a new one in the other.

"Huh?" I let this significantly confused sound escape, looking at the young lord, as if he had just announced that he wanted to record a video dancing to "Like a Virgin". It had been two years since he had married a guy who seemed perfect ... However, here he was. Wearing a new ring on his hand and, what was even stranger, in my room again. At that time, I thought I understood what was going on, but at the same time, I couldn't understand a single thing.

Then, Roderich's eyelids drooped slightly. This simple action changed his offended expression into something more smug and billions of times more annoying.

"I divorced Antonio. We are no longer married. I'm marrying another person who isn't..."

"I get it, I get! You can drop the cynical attitude!" I interrupted impatiently, rubbing the back of my hand against my forehead. "Urgh. You're always such a pleasant and lovely fiancé, aren't you, Rod?" I questioned, struggling to ignore how much he was emanating a revolting victorious air without doing anything more than adding a layer of pride to his features. As they say, one day is the day of the hunter and the other is the day of young masters who acquire a sense of humor in the worst moments. Or something like that. "Why did you divorced Antonio?" Inevitably, I went straight to the point. "Did you met a richer and more attractive man? Damn! Show me this guy!"

"What an uncouth suggestion," he scolded me, closing his face. "And take this stupid grin off of your face. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be interested in this person. I'm with a woman this time," he said dryly, and if it isn't obvious enough to you, the young lord knew that girls weren't and have never been my thing. Not like Roderich, who didn't care at all about the gender of the person he was dating, only with the practical benefit that it would bring to him. So he was with a woman, huh? When his composure returned and my interest subsided, he continued his explanation. "As for my divorce, I merely concluded that my husband couldn't offer me what I was looking for. Money isn't that important in a marriage, I discovered." That part, I was kind of 'Wow! This is the same young master with whom I met two years ago?!'when he added, "...at least, not when you already have money, of course."That relieved me considerably. Phew! That was the lazy materialist that I knew!

"So you joined the team of hearts and angels with arrows, aristocrat?" I inquired in a somewhat biting way. Nah. In fact, I was not asking a serious question but only teasing him. I didn't buy that at all. This little reunion was enough to inform me that he hadn't changed that much.

His lips and his eyebrows curled with more indignation than I could expect and with more indignation than he had anticipated too. From what I observed, that reaction caused the same surprise in both of us.

He probably noticed how much my eyes opened because in a matter of seconds, he executed a 180-degree turn in his attitude, as if correcting a small lapse.

"No, this isn't my motivation to marry miss Elizaveta," he replied with his eyes briefly closed, showing a graceful serenity, which was quite strange, coming from someone who had just looked at me with the same face of the movie vampire Nosferatus being defeated by sunlight,simply because I mentioned the idea of him becoming a romantic.

What was with this sudden change of mind, aristocrat? You went through a transformation over the last three seconds and evolved from 'Rod-can't-stand-jokes-mon' to 'Rod-can-stand-jokes-to-a-certain-point-mon'? Seriously, what the hell ...?

"I'm not in love with her."

"Oh, interesting." I put a hand on my chin and crossed my legs. "What's your reason now?"

Again, his answer was given in a placid and indifferent way:

"She's a good friend. I figured that if it's necessary to share your life with a person, this person should be someone with whom you have some kind of special bond," the young aristocrat argued, and then possibly wanting to reinforce his point and avoid my jokes (Ha! As if he could escape!), he added "Sense isn't sensibility."

Wow. That was one heck of a story.

To be honest, when the young master informed me that he wasn't in love with his fiancee, the first sensation that occurred to me was a vague evil pleasure. That's because I recognized in that speech the same inconsistency that I had encountered two years ago, so I was having the evil fun of those who know the end of a movie and laugh at the ignorance of the protagonists about their futures, while watching it again.

I wasn't counting with this change in his methods.

He was no longer following the 'wife-of-the-fifties' line. Now he wanted to imitate a romantic comedy from the 90's and experience the classic 'I-never-noticed-that-my-best-friend-was-my-true-love-this-entire-time' relationship. To what extent was he committed in this relationship? Was it merely a variation of his previous plan or did it have potential to become something bigger?

"Wait. Let me confirm something..." I pressed my forehead, deep in thought "You think you can fall in love with her because you're friends?"

"No."

Dude, he didn't even blink.

"Still taking the easier road, huh," I concluded with a soft and accidentally enigmatic smile, giving a glance to the other side.

"Do you have anything to say on this matter?"

For a second, I felt something beginning to rise in my throat. It was swallowed up so fast that I can't specify exactly what would it be. I can only guarantee that I was not as instantaneous as the last time I received a similar question to that.

Anyway, I just presented my most logical and rational response.

"It's none of my business." I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "Unless you're engaged to someone who stabbed you, I won't say a word about your love choices. Don't overestimate yourself, Rod. My guesses are so amazing that people have to pay to receive them. Don't think that you will win them without one or two sacrifices and promises of eternal devotion."

"You haven't changed a bit." He snorted, but I noticed that those words didn't carry hostility, really.

"I've reached the ideal form." I laughed with a shrug. "Why change?"

"Why did I even expect a different answer?" He rolled his eyes and unfolded his arms, approaching me, resigned.

"Easy!" I replied with less teasing than nostalgia in my voice. "Because you also didn't change at all, young lord."

And I swear I saw the trace of a smile through his stoic semblance as the young lord leaned to grab the wedding magazines scattered across my desk.

* * *

><p><em>I would like to thank wonderful miss Zeplerfer for all the help that she gave to me. This work is actually a translation of my fanfic in portuguese "Entre Brindes" and I was very insecure about how I would keep the quality of the text changing it to english until I received her help. Honestly, I owe that girl so much. She's awesome.<em>

_Since a very long time ago, I'm a very active person in the brazilian part of the fandom but now that my english isn't that bad, I'm going to try to bring some of my best works to more readers around the world._

_As I'm a newbie in the international part of the fandom, I ask you to leave a review after reading the chapters of this fic because a bit of support would be great. Have fun and until next time!^_^_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, dear readers! Welcome back! I hope that you will appreciate this new chapter! I must give my special thanks to miss Zeplerfer that helped me(a lot) again and for writting a review, my thanks to Malta and Noire Nightmare for also making lovely reviews, and to everyone that favorited and followed this fic. Thank you so much, guys. As I said before, since I'm a newbie in this part of the fandom(the international one, I mean), It would be really nice of you to give me any form of support if you're enjoying this story. That said, have a wonderful reading time and until next time!_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 02.<span>

This time, Roderich came to me seven months in advance. In terms of deadlines, he wasn't the most generous person in the universe but our past experience, in which I almost died of exhaustion and stress, taught him that major events should be organized early. So he gave me one extra month.

Holy shit, Rod! A whole extra month! Wow! Now, all my problems have been removed! I'm so comfortable that I maybe should organize my agenda to contact my suppliers only on the weekends and let weeks pass before choosing the clothes and dishes of your party. One month! Even if I sleep all day, I still will have almost an eternity before your wedding!

SAID NO-ONE EVER.

A month was nothing. He was stingy even about his time. Honestly, he was very lucky to have me by his side. I was one of the few people with ability to deal with his pace and eccentric habits. Hmph. That must have been the reason why he came to me again to organize his ceremony.

In this second marriage, I initially assumed that I would spend more time with the bride than with Rod and my feelings about this change were a little confusing. How can I describe it without having to use stupid and emotional metaphors... Hm... I was frustrated but relieved? Yes, this is a good way to describe what was happening to me. As I mentioned, the experience of organizing Rod's first wedding was fantastic. Just as giant and scary waves seem fantastic for some surfers, but anyway... I had fun, but it was over. I did my job.

If I had to plan another marriage for Rod, not involving him with this new project seemed like the best idea. I had the impression __or premonition __that it would veeery uncomfortable to once more organize the party at his side. His bride would bring a fresh air to the scenery and that was the only thing that someone super-efficient like me needed to work. She probably wouldn't be the same as Rod, since no one could be like him - and I mean that as both a compliment and as an insult - but she would bring a new perspective to the event. Fresh air, new perspectives and new company. That would be for the best.

Ha, ha! Maybe I could even forget that the aristocrat was the one getting married!

My brilliant plans, however, were ruined by external forces. Forces such as the unexpected determination of Rod to be the bride. He entirely took over the reins of the wedding planning. His meddling and stubbornness meant that a good number of people on my team didn't even see the bridge until the big day.

Lucky bastards.

His fiancé was a woman named Elizaveta. She was pretty, charming, and very... Let's say, "protective" of Rod. Bah, what's the sense of using euphemisms here? She was insane! To summarize the story, she was not involved with most of the preparations for the event, however, during the rehearsals, the only days we saw each other, her body language conveyed the clear message that if I ruined Rod's big day (yep, I was beginning to wonder if I should take the aristocrat to try on dresses and take Lizzy to he tailor), she would serve me as a main dish in their party.

... Every rehearsal in the church was a nightmare

N-Not that I felt intimidated by her! Of course not! I-I just was feeling nervous because..er ... because I care too much about the satisfaction of my clients! A-As if someone as amazing as me would ever get scared of a bride who could run in heels high enough to pierce my skull! Ha, ha! What a joke!

Ahn ... Let's change the subject, okay?!

Fine, although Elizaveta Herdevary was kinda like a tamed lion, she was also a great girl. I can understand her side; she just wanted to protect the person she loved and maybe I would do the same in her place. I mean, If anyone thought about doing something to hurt my little brother, I would annihilate him ...! Or rather, I would kick his remains after Lud destroyed him! I taught the boy to take care of himself, after all!

As I said, I totally empathize with her feelings.

Lizzy was a ambitious, beautiful, funny woman, charmed by Rod to the point of being blind to his faults, and his loyal friend. What was my conclusion, then? This time it would be permanent. I was organizing a wedding that would have a real meaning for the young lord.

And it wasn't difficult for me to visualize his ideal wedding, given that we got to know each other much, much, much more, in this second event.

In those seven months, everything was so rushed that it wasn't unusual to schedule many meetings with Rod in the middle of the week to do activities like discuss the budget or ask if he couldn't consider an alternative and forget that stupid statue of ice that he already used in other wedding, and so on. We called each other every day. Apart from issues necessarily relevant to my work that forced me to contact him anyway, it often seemed that Rod had the need to call me to talk about each flash of inspiration that occurred to him about his wedding. Also, I guess that I had my own flashes of stupidity when I heard his voice, since I wasn't able to ignore the phone or acquire enough strength to be the one to hang up first.

I was pretty much stuck in that vicious cycle.

"What do you want, Rod? I'm talking to the chef at the buffet ... What?! You decided to use Japanese lanterns in your marriage? No way, young lord. We changed the original theme of 'Victorian England' to 'Renaissance Style', but I won't let you explore the four corners of the world at your wedding. It's a ceremony, not __Around the World in Eighty Days__"," Young lord, it is two and thirty in the morning and you called me to say that you want tomatoes with buffalo's mozzarella cheese in the appetizers? C'mon! Have some sense! Did you really think I wouldn't include them on the menu? They were, like, 70% of your plate at your last wedding. Yes, yes. It's gonna be the same chef that will make them. I have a established team.", " Rod, I'm in the middle of a date ... Pff! No, no! I'm kidding! What's with this awkward silence anyway, young lord? Never mind, never mind! What is your new idea? 'Acrobats' ? No, no, it's perfect! I'll hire them immediately! What? Are you saying something? It seems that I'm hearing you say '__I just realized how ridiculous this idea sounded. Please ignore what I said!__' but, nah, can't be it, right? I'm going to call the acrobats right now! Bye!".

I had my knowledge base from his previous marriage to help me, but I have the impression that it would have made little difference if I didn't. In the second one, I could learn a lot more about Rod.

I discovered, for example, that he was unbearably grumpy and slightly similar to a zombie when he didn't drink a cup of black coffee in the morning. It was both comical and dangerous to find him in this mood. I also learned that the compositions he played on the piano were pretty much based on his mental state. On days of good humor, Debussy. On days of irritation, Chopin. In less ordinary days, in which he showed a thoughtful and serious demeanour, looking as if immersed in a very serious and hopeless matter, Erik Satie. It was his way to release the emotional weight that existed behind that perfectly stoic countenance. Some people throw glass cups against the wall... He played Chopin as if the piano had publicly offended him. Another thing that I learned was that he had a bad relationship with his parents. Urgh. The typical drama of adults demanding too much of talented children. Just mentioning them was enough to leave Rod anxious.

Being aware of it, I preferred to avoid talking about his parents' invitations and handled that part alone. I concluded that it didn't matter for Rod if they came or not, but if they did, I just had to put them in a more secluded table and tell the photographer to limit the amount of "family photos".

I learnt that Roderich got sleepy at certain times of the day and that I could interpret the slight variation of his expressions if I searched for little details. I learnt several things before realizing that I was learning too much.

It's normal for a wedding planner to know his customer. The problem is that he should know about preferences of flowers and food, family members to be invited, budget priorities ... not if his client always uses the same shopping list or if the client clenches his hands when nervous or if he shows a light and almost unnoticeable shade of red in his face when he blushes or if it gets lost easily and then blames his lateness on nonexistent traffic jams or if he smiles accidentally and without noticing when he listen to his compositions being played somewhere or if he likes to use strong perfumes or if his ... Ok, I'm done here! I think my point is clear enough!

The situation grow worse and worse until it reached a level in which a red alert began to resonate in my mind. This ...this was getting dangerous. Things were running away from my control and escaping the safe zone of professionalism. And my comfort zone was almost continental, I must say.

The strangest and worst of all this? The situation was getting dangerous for me, not for Rod. As if the aristocrat cared about what was going on! That was my problem.

I had no intention of letting everything become gradually more complicated, so I took a noble attitude and immediately tried to limit my interactions with the aristocrat. If I'm not mistaken, my valuable and diplomatic words were... "Young lord, honestly, I think that you should pick up your stuff that is in my house, I should get my stuff that is in your home, and we should meet each other less frequently. Preferably when your scary fiancé is around. Don't you think that this whole situation between us is kinda odd? Well, man, it's super-weird and I want you to go away from me so I can concentrate on your wedding. My advice is that you should do the same. Look, it's not normal, for example, to keep talking to me on the phone, until two in the morning on a freaking Friday but we're doing it constantly. Like, where do you even find time to have sex with Lizzy? Maybe her mood will improve a lot if you sleep together more often, you know. "

My decision was totally wise, right? He should congratulate my sensitivity and bow down at my fair terms! However, as proven by that second request of an ice statue to use in the middle of autumn, Rod wouldn't be Rod if he accepted simple solutions.

The aristocrat squeezed his hands, sighed, looked deep into my eyes and said:

"I have no idea what you mean by this. Please don't use vulgar excuses to avoid doing your work."

Then, to give a dramatic effect, he stood up and slammed the door behind him.

You can't accuse me of not trying.

At one point, Roderich was right: I had to stop letting "vulgar excuses" interfere with my work. No matter how much my relationship with Roderich was strange and causing me to be more and more alert every day, he was about to get married and my main goal should be to prepare a perfect wedding for him. That was my job and if there is something in which I'm especially fantastic, that would be my job. I'm the Beyoncé of wedding organization! Some are close to my level! No one is better than me!

If this was my strong point, that should be my focus. I would give to Roderich a wedding so glorious that he would cry sapphires after seeing such sophistication and this would be the grand finale to our relationship. Any knowledge that I acquired or could acquire about Rod wouldn't alter this future and when I accepted it, it became easier to make plans and and ignore anything other than my tasks while preparing the event

Stick on me all you want, aristocrat. Meanwhile, I will be concentrating on preparing a spectacular wedding for you because, unlike some young lords, I recognize the difference between a work relationship and plain parasitism. I'm not going to think so much about our relationship anymore. Just do whatever you want with it.

As expected, Rod's second ceremony was absolutely stupendous. Sure, Roderich didn't cry tears made of sapphires or give an emotional speech about his endless gratitude for the best wedding planner of all time, but I'm sure it was just out of shyness, not for lack of recognition that I was brilliant.

The party was great! Ha, ha! I know that from what I observed from the guests, since I didn't have the chance to enjoy it myself. I wasn't in a good mood that night. I was tired to the deepest depths of my soul and had a short temper. To make matters worse, as I found myself forced to continue working during the party, I was getting progressively sicker with my own masterpiece.

I looked at the flowers scattered in strategic corners, to the soft tableclothes that I convinced the young master to buy, to the tables full of relatives and friends talking to each other, and I simply couldn't see, on the details of that hall, his future with Lizzy ... Everything I could see there were the episodes of our organization of the event, and it was so, so strange to realize that they were in the process of becoming "memories".

At least, on a positive note, everything was finally resolved. Roderich was fine and I would be fine. Even that young lord, who tried so hard to be less romantic than he actually was, deserved a night like this, by the side of a person who deeply loved him.

I finished my work and it reached the expected level of quality of the incredible wedding planner that I was. Finally I would be able to go for future projects and move on.

Or so I thought until the day Rod came again to my office.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello, dear readers! Good to see you back!=D_

_I want to thank all of you for reading, liking and following this work, but, for helping me with the revision of this new chapter(this one had a very tricky translation, mind you) and giving me such a sweet review, I must give my special thanks the wonderful and kind miss Zeplerfer! _

_Ah! Since my birthday is on the 26th, how about leaving some reviews as a gift? Ha, ha!^_^_

_Anyway, I'm so glad that you're here and that you're enjoying this story, guys. Translation is hard and your support is really important to keep me motivated. Thanks a lot, really. That said, I hope that you will enjoy this new chapter! Have fun and until next time!=D_

* * *

><p><em>"Um é pouco, dois é bom e três é demais" = "One is not much, two is enough, three is too much". It basically means that overdoing or neglecting something isn't good and that balance is the perfect action.<em>

Chapter 03.

As the saying goes, one is not much, two is enough and three … Three is bullshit!

After all that I've done to mark the eternal vows of Roderich's marriage with a wedding party that was also worthy of eternity, he divorced again?! Even worse, he was getting married again?! And hiring me?! For someone who claimed to be so _artistically sensitive_, he surely knew how to be pretty damn insensitive at certain times!

"Rod, are you practicing a sinister ritual of dark magic that requires a wedding every two years and my presence in all of them?" I inquired, not as lighthearted as my speech suggested. Just looking at me you could tell how my mood really was at that moment. My face had a serious look, my legs rested on top of the table in my office, and my arms were crossed behind my head, in a posture that expressed how little I cared for good manners in front of that aristocrat.

These signals pointed to the obvious fact that I was sick of Roderich.

"I'm going to take your rude joke as a welcome message," he replied without missing a beat, not showing any hassle, second thoughts or empathy about my feelings, while approaching to sit in front of my desk, as if doing the most predictable movement in the world. "Hello, Gilbert."

So it was just like that?! He thought he could just go sitting around and getting down to business?! He couldn't even bother to give me a brief explanation about what was going on?!

"Wait a second! Don't go sitting like this!" I extended my arm and reached out to stop him, quickly correcting my position on the chair. "Listen here, I still have my personal issues with …!"

"You have personal issues? That much is obvious." He snorted and that made my impatience reach its boiling point.

"Ha, ha! Very funny, young lord!" A forced and aggressive laugh came out of my mouth. "You know what else is funny? Your presence in my office again!" I banged my fist against the table, too freaking fed up with Rod's bullshit to deal with his aristocratic sarcasm. I stared hard at him. As if our gazes could collide. "For the third time in less than six years! Do you realize how much I invested in your ceremony?! I can't believe you wasted it like that!"

"To my knowledge, I married Miss Elizaveta, not the ceremony itself!" he stated firmly.

For a brief second, anger took over my head and I simply started screaming without having the slightest idea of what I was about to say:

"Yes, BUT I…!"

'I' what? In the end, what was my reason to be _that _angry with Rod? Despite how tiresome my old efforts to organize his previous marriages were, I couldn't find a reason good enough to justify that fury of mine. At most, a bitterness or a bothersome feeling of displeasure. Not that hot and volatile anger that I had to forcefully contain.

"Bah! Never mind!" I yielded grudgingly, throwing one of my hands over my shoulders. "Can I at least get some decent explanation?"

"Hmpf. Behave well and I shall do the same."

"In this case, we're both screwed." I grunted, putting a hand over my eyes and breathing deeply. "Look, Rod, I don't get it. Why did you break up with Lizzy? I mean, that girl treated you like some kind of idol!"

To be fair, unlike his first divorce, this time he had at least the decency to pause a little to think about his (still kinda unexpected) answer.

"I came to the conclusion that being idolized by someone is not comfortable or beneficial to either side," was his explanation, and he kept one hand on his chin and eyes directed to the ceiling while saying them, as if puzzled by this discovery.

At the moment he finished speaking, I slowly lowered my head. Absorbed in dark and heavy thoughts that were almost sinking it into the table.

Roderich Eldestein… He had changed in some aspects and remained exactly the same in others. The aristocrat was still in his extremely strict search for the ideal partner and, to make things worse, his demands were becoming more and more rigorous over time.

I was honestly scared of the path that he was following. Just how many marriages would he make me organize? How many times would I have to be in that exhausting process? More importantly, why did I even care to step on the stage when I knew so well the end of the plot? It's not like I was forced to accept Roderich's request and I considered refusing this one.

"Right…" I muttered, staring at the murky reflection of him in my perfectly polished wood table. "So… Who is your partner now?"

"He is an old childhood friend that I met again by chance last year. His name is Vash."

"Last year? Wow, you guys didn't waste any time, huh?" I laughed dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's the deal for you, Rod?"

"We're very similar and I believe that our similar natures will produce a harmonious coexistence."

"Once again, you're not in love with the person you will marry." I sighed, keeping my eyes in the reflection, and I felt a tired smile forming on my face. As predicted, here we were. Back to that awful loop of events.

"I assume that this unnecessary statement of a simple fact had some sort of critical purpose?" he asked in a clear, carefully neutral voice.

It had? I couldn't say for sure. Certainly, there was a sour feeling in it, like I was swirling a liquid mixture of resentment and bitterness in my mouth to spit it out. However, I could attribute that to the waste of my hard work, thanks to the repetitive divorces of the young lord, and that's what I did.

To put it simply, I said what I had to:

"Nope. Your relationships are none of my business. No-pun intended."

"Oh."

Curious about the meaning of this "Oh." I lifted my eyes for a moment and I caught the young lord's shoulders shrugging and a sudden and indecipherable flash running through his eyes as he focused on the floor. Noticing that, my first reflex was to check his hands... something that couldn't be verified because they were hidden in the pockets of his coat.

Having this visual information as my only clue, my natural conclusion was that he was probably showing relief about how nonchalant I was over his personal life.

Though it was kinda weird to see such a weak and strange reaction of relief, I accepted this explanation to his behaviour, remembering the old Conan Doyle's words that "once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth".

"How much time do you have before the date of the ceremony?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the table surface and once more I watched the reflection on it absently. "Depending on your answer, I can give you the contact information for some of my friends in this line of work that aren't very busy in the next few months and…"

"Does that mean you're not going to work for me?" His eyebrows went up and his eyes subtly become more open, expressing bewilderment.

Oh, young lord.

"I already planned two of your weddings, Roderich," I replied frankly, supporting my elbows on the table and hanging my head down, almost touching the wood. "Maybe you should find someone else."

"If I wanted someone else, why would I be here?" he asked impatiently.

That was the ten million dollar question. Why did Roderich come to _me_? Who could know? Maybe not even Rod himself.

"I have no idea, aristocrat, so if you can tell me, that would be great," I confessed with an exhausted groan, raising my eyes toward him but keeping my head low.

"The answer is simple, you fool." He took a deep breath and closed his eyelids. Anxiety marks were appearing on his forehead, creating the impression that he was about to reveal was anything but simple. Not for him. "While it's true that my previous marriages didn't make me happy…" he needed another pause for breath. I felt my own breathing changing its rhythm with all that suspense, "… I always truly enjoyed my wedding receptions."

_What?_

What? What? What?

"Did I accidentally touch a bouquet of poisonous flowers and now I'm in the middle of a hallucination or did you really just give me a compliment?" I asked incredulously, dodging backward like a cartoon character finally realizing the disguise of an archenemy. '_Who are you and what have you done with Roderich?_!' could be my cliché line if we were in this type of scenario.

Allow me to explain: the aristocrat NEVER praised me directly, because his notion of a compliment was a not-critical comment. Something like "_This coffee is acceptable,_" meant "This is the best coffee I've tried in my life. My taste buds are having a celestial joy and never will experience a glorious moment like this again." and "_Your job wasn't bad,_" meant "You did such a fantastic job that I will hire you to plan my next ten-thousand weddings".

"Occasionally, you deserve them," he admitted unwillingly, trying to avert his eyes. "Although I prefer not to feed that colossal ego of yours.

Pling! As incomprehensible as it may seem, these few lines spoken by young lord managed to dramatically reverse my mood. At the speed of atoms in a particle accelerator, I changed from my state of bitterness and resentment to a glorious and slightly sadistic sense of victory. Ohhh... So the aristocrat admitted that I was formidable and that he needed to restrain himself from praising me every second? It was nice to have confirmation of this obvious fact!

"Don't worry, young lord." I laughed with contempt, putting my hands up again. "There's no need to feed something that practically does photosynthesis!"

"Gilbert, I want to prepare this wedding with you," he pressed again.

Urgh. We had to go back to that discussion?

"Rod, I've spent a lot of energy on your last wedding and I have othe…"

I had another project in mind. A wedding between a Berwarld and Tino, that had the potential to be a job quite relaxed and cool, because they liked dogs, saunas and punk music. You can't go wrong in choosing the company of people with tastes like these.

Giving up this project to organize another wedding for Rod would be the most ridiculous decision ever. "**New and relaxing event with humorous and quiet people**" versus "**A repetition of troublesome past events during the organization of a monumental and complicated marriage to a client that will be on your back for the next few months.**". The choice was easy.

In fact, I would have given my answer to Roderich immediately if he had not interrupted me to launch the most killer bomb on top of me:

"I need you," he confessed quietly with a sincerity so poignant and filled with vulnerability, that it was hard to watch it on his face directly, as it's hard to look directly at the sun.

I took a deep breath, remembering every moment and every reason that justified my refusal. I had to persist. I had to persist. That project wasn't worth it. I was sure that it wasn't worth it. C'mon! One would have to be a complete idiot to agree to submit to that again and ...!

"Even though it's terribly humiliating to admit it, that's the truth," he added, staring at the floor and scrunching his features in a completely failed attempt to disguise the blush spread across his face.

Yes, he was completely red. Roderich Eldestein. Red. A rarer occurrence than the passage of Halley's Comet.

Fuck my life.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello again, guys! Before saying anything, let me inform you that today is my birthday! Yay! Since you guys were so supportive here, I decided to give you a little chapter in this special day.=D_

_It's really good to see you back and I'm really grateful about all the support that I'm receving in this translation. Thank you all so much. Again, I must give my special thanks to wonderful miss Zeplerfer that helped me a lot with the revision of the text and gave me a lovely and much appreciated review ( _**Gilbert monologue is like, 2/3 of this 70 pages fanfiction, so it's good to know that you're enjoying it!XD)**_. Speaking about reviews, my special thanks to Nebelsue ( _**I agree, the Rod of this fic is a pain but I can't help but laugh of how pitiful is Gilbert's situation about **_), Noire Nightmare ( _**I'm glad that my fic could make you hold your breath! Hopefully I will make you have this experience more times!**_), Vikusa-san (_**That already gave my "Happy birthday"! My double thanks to you!**_) and Silverblood (_**Y****our review made me smile A LOT, you have no idea. You're too kind, dear!**)_. _

_Your reviews made me so happy that I decided to update this fic today. Btw guys, don't worry. I'm actually translating a work already finished so this project is not demanding too much of me(though translations can be hard and tricky). Also, my native language is brazilian portuguese, not spanish but I'm glad that you think that my translation isn't awkward and that you're enjoying this work of mine.^_^_

_Thanks to everyone that liked and started to following this really makes me more motivated to go on. Keep doing that, please._

_If it's not a problem for you, please, give me reviews as a birhday gift! Have fun and until next time!^_^_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 04.<span>

Six months and two weeks later, the _chef _of my team was still stunned at my decision to accept the job. He was not the first in line. Everyone in my team was stunned. My family was stunned. Some of my suppliers were stunned. I must admit: I was also shocked, though a considerable portion of my astonishment was due to the number of people with the same feelings about my involvement in that project rathert han to my new contract itself.

Different manifestations of piety and confusion - that were totally unnecessary! - came from all possible sources and were all equally annoying. Why did everyone care so much about with whom I worked or not? I doubt anyone says "You don't need to force yourself to do this..." when Tim Burton decides to have another partnership with Johnny Depp.

The usual was that I merely dismissed or despised other people's concerns on that topic. That was how I was predisposed to act in my meeting with Francis via computer to have a casual talk about our personal lives. Still, he had such a worried expression when we started talking on Skype that night, that I almost felt some of his pity for me:

"You're clearly tired, Gilbert," he said and there was no doubt in his words.

Well, denying it wouldn't make me any good. The Phantom of the Opera didn't hide underground over nothing. Sometimes, it's impossible to make people ignore what is all over your face.

"I'm beaten," I confessed, laying my head on the table and noticing my eyes closing against my will.

I was so exhausted at the time. That day. That year.

"Good Lord! For you of all people to recognize it, the case must be serious!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice so alarmed that it was almost theatrical.

"More serious than the delivery schedule of our suppliers," I confirmed with a grunt, not able to lift my head or keep both of my eyelids open at the same time. "I'm completely screwed, Francis."

"If you want to tire yourself less, you always have the option to reduce the time that Roderich spends with you," the image on my computer screen suggested, and the false innocence in that speech was transmitted as clearly as the light of my monitor.

"Ha. A wedding planner complaining about the time that he's spending with a client? Isn't it usually the opposite?" I raised an eyebrow. If he wanted false innocence, false innocence he would get.

"Come on, Gilbert, we both know that his constant visits are not exactly related to your work," he pointed out in a half severe and half worried way that reminded me of my mother. Lately, more often than they should, people around me were tending to do so. "Remember the last time? He came to bring you an internet article about the proper colors of the bridesmaids' dresses but stayed in your office for two and a half hours, talking about his last world tour? He invited you to go to a restaurant to show a dish that he wanted in his buffet and you ended up only returning at night? He called you over the phone and started a ...?"

"I know, I know! He makes excuses to chat with me." I rolled my eyes, impatient, lowering the corners of the mouth. "Of course, I know that. Don't underestimate a high intelligence like mine."

"You are aware of it and yet, you keep accepting his requests," he pronounced each word slowly.

"So what?" I snorted, tilting my nose up. "Technically, he always has professional reasons to contact me. If I tried to escape, he surely would come with that old talk of "_Oh! You are so unprofessional despite being so obviously awesome ~_". No way. Enduring Rod's constant company is better than enduring his cheap excuses."

"At least you're going to charge him for the extra hours, right, Gilbert?"

_Silence._

"Gilbert!"

"What?!" At that time, I was caught up on a wave of anger that gave me the strength to raise my body and open my arms as aggressively as a fighting rooster. Even though I was too exhausted to be arguing, above that, I was fed up with so much advice about my relationship with Roderich, so I was able to extract energy from my accumulated anger to respond to Francis's shocked exclamation. "I can't charge the young lord for wanting to spend more time with me! I'm not a chaperone, Bonnefoy! I can't demand an additional payment for talking with him about personal stuff!"

"Then you meet him every day because it's work, but will not charge him for the time you spend together because that doesn't count as work, huh?" he pointed to my contradiction with narrowed eyes.

If his intention was to confront me with that, he should seriously consider using other weapons. Ha! I knew that contradiction better than anyone. It was my daily companion, after all.

"'Told you that I was screwed," I repeated in a low and heavy voice.

"You should have listened to me when I advised you to not accept the new job." He sighed, closing his eyes with an very annoying air of_ I-told-you-so_. "Remember the three months following his second marriage and how you were after...?"

I exploded again.

"Goddamnit, Francis! He is a client! A client who is practically the personification of money! If he wants to have ten thousand weddings and wants to hire me in all of them, then it's better for us, isn't it?! Besides ...!" My next words would come with fury if they had not been caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, lowering the temperature of my emotions gradually. When I got back to my arguments, they no longer contained the same aggressive intensity as before but a heavy, thick honesty. "Besides..." I added in a soft voice, resting my eyes on the keyboard. "I can't refuse him."

"How come?"

"I just can't," I groaned plaintively, sinking my face on my hands.

"Oh, Gilbert."

Oh, no. I wouldn't stand that look of pity.

"For fuck's sake, Francis. Give me a break from these questions," I grumbled, putting a hand over my eyes, feeling that even the monitor light was too violent for me. "Are you his fiancé's private detective or something?"

"Gilbert, Gilbert ... Didn't it occur to you that maybe you're in a very delicate position to be working in this particular wedding?"

"Of course not," I assured him with confidence, changing entirely my physical and mental posture. "I'm a professional, Francis. A great professional and one of the best in this industry. This wedding is going to be a epic and unforgettable event. My only fear is making the coming Olympics look disappointing in comparison to the level of perfection of my work!"

"I don't doubt your ability to create a glorious wedding, my dear friend. In fact, my fears relate to what will follow it." He gave me a glance full of implications.

"I guess that's a matter for the future." I crossed my arms and shrugged. "It's too late for a change of plans anyway. There's less than two weeks to his wedding and preparations are almost completed. Even if I intended to, it wouldn't be possible to drop this project now. I'm even meeting tomorrow with the grooms at some aristocratic restaurant to celebrate the end of the main preparations. The end is near," I concluded, finally releasing through my mouth a breath that I was unconsciously holding and accidentally giving an apocalyptic tone to my last sentence.

"You, Roderich and Vash sharing a table? Hm ... I don't know if I should encourage you to not go or if I should hide in a good location to watch better the show. "

"Shut up, Francis." I couldn't resist laughing at this and playing along. "Take care of your part of the job and provide the best banquet ever. Cook like I'm paying triple your salary."

"If you persist in being so stubborn, I'm not going to be the one to dissuade you. Still, since I want you to go to sleep early, I plan to finish our conversation here. Usually, I don't trust much in the effectiveness of a beauty sleep, but it's sadly obvious that you need one. I meant no offense, of course. Good night, Gilbert." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Take care, dear friend."

"Good night, Francis. Dude, you have the worst ways of saying goodbye ever!" I smiled and then closed my laptop.

"Take care". What unnecessary advice.

Since Rod's first wedding, I had gotten used to being careful all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello there guys! Good to see you again!_ *:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*

_Before starting this chapter, as always, I must thank lovely miss Zeplerfer for her great help with the translation of this fic, to Noire Nightmare, Steelgray, Vikusa-san(**Ha, ha! I know, right? Roderich is a pain but he's so incredible and funny in his own way! Also I love writing Gilbert's monologue so I'm happy that you're appreciating it**) and PruAus Fan(**Gilbert going insane is, indeed, hilarious, I'm such a S, omg**.) and miss Zeplerfer again(**YES. SLOW-BUILDING PRUAUS IS GOLD AND THERE'S STILL SO MUCH TO COME. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW.**) for your awesome reviews and to all of you that favorited and/or are following this fic! Your support gives me motivation to keep translating this work and if it's not too much to ask, I would like to keep receiving it.=)_

_I hope you have a really good time reading this chapter and see you next time! Take care and have a wonderful day!_

__IMPORTANT: A little explanation about something that will appear in this chapter: I know that mint is a super-common flavour around the USA and it seems that Europe also has a lot of stuff with mint but in my country, that's not a popular flavour at all so it's hard to find foods with a minty taste and sometimes it's hard to buy it even when they exist, because the store never has it. That said, I originally made this fic to brazilians such as myself and that's why a certain comparison is made in some point. I didn't change it because I thought it wasn't really necessary to do so, since I could explain the whole thing here. The more you know.__

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 05.<span>

As expected, the restaurant where Rod took us, on the next night, fit up every cliché of high-class restaurants. The place was a sophisticated and quiet environment, full of people dressed formally and observing each other with mutual criticism. They served portions so small that you could only taste the promise of the flavor before finishing it.

Also, as Roderich should have expected, there was no desire on my part to commit me to match this sumptuous atmosphere.

"Was it too much to hope that you would dress properly for the occasion, Gilbert?"

I was wearing a grey hoodie, jeans and sneakers. Let's face it. It was more than enough for me to be more attractive than anyone around there.

"Come on, young lord! You know, I have to deal with etiquette everyday in my line of work," I protested reasonably. Heck, I had to wear suits every day. I deserved a break, right? Was it my fault if the young lord had bizarre notions of what would be a relaxing hangout place? "This is a celebration! Not to mention that I don't need all this formal stuff to be stunning," I added with a ear-to-ear smile.

"That's not about being stunning, but rather appropriate," he snapped and his lilac eyes were cold and firm.

"Come on, Rod." I rolled my eyes. I had no disposition to handle those complaints in a more chivalrous or professional way. "Why do you insist on these formal events? For once, why can't we go to a place like, I dunno, a disco that plays the songs of the eighties and drink some cuba libre while dancing to the hits of 'Flashdance'?"

"It's scary the amount of detail that you put into that terrifying hypothetical scenario," he said icily. "Moreover, I believe that the word 'disco' has fallen into disuse."

Oh, dear. The young lord was updating my slang? That was priceless!

"Pfff! Thank you, Mr. Modernity!" I was filled with such a intense urge to laugh that I had to cover my mouth to contain it or, at least, to make it not sound as loud as it would be if I simply released it. "Good to know that I can count on you to know all the new trends!"

"As always, your sense of humor is absolutely…!"

If he would say "great" or "super-hyper-mega-great", I don't know. His boyfriend got in the middle first, interrupting us by hitting on his glass with his soup spoon.

"Don't let a mere detail disturb you, Roderich," he complained. "We spent too much on this dinner to waste it with childish fights."

That was Vash, an individual who had his share of aspects in common with Roderich and took the position of his groom because of that. He was as stingy with money as Rod, as serious as Rod, and as bad at dealing with romance as Rod. I'll admit it, they were, indeed, kind of similar. Although their personality traits didn't make them symmetrical.

The young lord was like a mint ice cream covered with a layer of chocolate. Beyond the surface, there was a soft side on him. That side wasn't very sweet or common, though it could be tasty for some palates. Vash, on the other hand, was more like a crunchy ice cream. His hard and soft parts were practically inseparable and people chose him more for his consistency than for his flavour.

Anyway, a groom is a groom and this role makes him deserve more attention than a wedding planner. Thus, after the reprimand that Rod received from him, the two of them began a one-sided conversation, that can be basically described as an monologue-of-Vash-with-head-nods-of-Rod about the firearms that Mr. Zwingli collected, and, meanwhile, I was completely left out. 'Course, I didn't mind that and, determined to not care about the treatment that they were giving me, I distracted myself with my phone.

My position there was as a wedding planner and I was being treated as a wedding was nothing surprising about it. Since I didn't want to join the tedious conversation to which I wasn't invited, I used the wifi restaurant to exchange messages with Lud.

I liked to check in on my brother from time to time. We were very, very close! He had to marry to escape my protective wings(under my protest!)! I also really liked Feli, his wife and, if it were up to me, the three of us would totally live together! However, with a baby on the way, they needed their own space and I respected that.

My message exchange with Lud turned out to be a very effective way to pass the time. I was having a good laugh at the domestic stories that he was sharing about his marriage and about Feliciana's pregnancy and gladly getting into my innocent distraction, hardly imagining the storm I was about to face…

"Who is this person that you're talking to?" Roderich asked, his question as abrupt and sharp as the stroke of a blade.

When I raised my eyes from my mobile screen, it shocked me how open and palpable was his dissatisfaction. He was staring at me as if I had insulted him in the most disgusting way.

Man, I was lost. Why on earth did my exchange of messages with someone bother Rod that much?

"My little brother?" I replied hesitantly, not having a clue about what the hell he was expecting to hear as an answer. The lines of my face were contracted in total confusion, because, seriously, what was going on with the aristocrat?

Inexplicably, though not entirely satisfied with that response, it managed to please him on some level.

"Hmph. It's very rude to exchange messages with another person when you have company," he murmured, showing traces of offense in his solemn expression.

HUH?! Wait, wait! Is this for real?!

He was complaining because I got distracted with another person while I was being ignored? What the heck did he want from me? That I keep a respectful and appreciative silence while watching their conversation? No fucking way.

That criticism was so unnecessary and unfair that even Vash was mortified.

"He wasn't really making part of the conversation, Roderich," he tried to appease him in the same hesitant and confused tone as mine.

"Sorry then, Rod!" I exclaimed, opening my arms in exasperation, ready to defend myself on my own. "I just didn't want to interrupt your romantic-lovey-dovey-couple moment of talking about the weapons invented in the French Revolution!"

Twice, Rod opened his mouth as if he was willing to say something in response but he still closed it without letting a sound out either time. It was obvious that he wasn't able to find a reasonable explanation for his actions. Ha! I thought so!

He may not have had any arguments and I didn't have a full understanding of his motives, yet we didn't need those things or verbal expressions to hold a discussion, since we were so familiar with each other. Through visual communication, we had a silent conversation that basically consisted of a "What the hell, Rod?!" and "I don't want to talk about it but I'm upset with you." complemented by a "Why?!" mine and "I'll pretend you don't exist and that nothing happened, because I'm a BIG COWARD IDIOT THAT GETS ANNOYED FOR NO REASON." his.

"Okay, enough of that. I will try to give the right direction to this evening," the voice of Vash surprised us in the middle of our conversation and its solemnity implied that he was about to make a looong speech.

Oh, great! Now that! As if my good will hadn't been tested enough. Just fuck me already.

I wasn't optimistic about what would be the "right direction" because it was no secret that Vash didn't like me. The right direction, huh? Would that be banishing me from the table? Finishing the dinner? I didn't even care anymore.

"Mr. Beilschmidt when Roderich informed me that you would be our wedding planner, I was completely against it." Yep, he didn't put any vanilla in his words. "Pardon my frankness. I thought that our wedding planner would be a mature woman, which is not remotely compatible with your profile. Besides, you were responsible for his two marriages that ended in divorce. This just doesn't seem right to me."

I couldn't have been more pleased with his choice of attack.

"Huh?" I smirked and extended one of my hands in a mocking, condescending gesture. "Wasn't that a great thing for you, considering that you are only able to marry Rod **because **his two marriages ended up in divorces?"

To my immense delight, he opened his eyes and blushed, as I figured he would.

Vash, Vash, Vash. So many weapons in your collection and not a single one in your tongue.

"Yes, but …! Well …!" He coughed and tried to regain his confidence on what he had to say, adopting a more determined look. Heh, classic response! "Anyway, I still don't understand why Roderich wanted to hire you, when you have the worst habits and petulance that I ever encountered in an employee. Certainly, it wasn't for personal reasons, given that, clearly, you don't get along."

In the second he finished his sentence, my eyes and Roderich's met as if they had agreed to do so. We both had the same question and got the same confirmation. "Don't get along" was a vague and relatively unfair description for our relationship. Deep inside, we both had knowledge of it, though it wasn't something expressed aloud.

"Mr. Beilschmidt?"

I blinked, coming out of my trance and suddenly realizing that I was talking to Vash just a second ago.

"Yeah, yeah. I get the message." I corrected my posture, returning to the original main discussion. "You hate me even though I have this irrefutable talent and charisma. Your superego must be working hard for that, by the way," I dumped casually and carefree. Honestly, he could think whatever he wanted and that wouldn't bother me. He loved and respected Roderich and that was all that mattered to me. I wasn't the one who was engaged to Vash. Thank goodness. I raised a wine glass. "A toast to the fact that you hate me but can't be without me?"

"No, listen!" he interrupted me and the red colour of his neck jumped to a much brighter shade in a second. "I … Urgh! It's hard to admit it, but I promised myself I would tell you that …! I … I …!"

"Sorry, Rod, but I think your boyfriend is about to confess to me," I whispered to Roderich, giving a playful nudge in his right hip and getting a weak slap on my arm in response.

"Shut your mouth! Do not make me already regret what I'm about to say!" Vash told me and he had to breathe quickly to finally announce with difficulty, "I … I admit that hiring you, Mr. Beilschmidt, was a good decision."

"Oh?"

"Y-you ... You've done an impressive job." He put a hand over his mouth, noticeably trying to hide his embarrassment. "I think that our wedding is going to be the most beautiful that I've seen."

Ah! Listening to that speech was wonderful in so many ways. First, due to the sensation of pure joy provided by my victory, since I had made a guy who disapproved of me fairly openly, admit that my work was more spectacular than the creation of the universe (or something along those lines). Also due to the pleasant feeling of being recognized because, dear Lord, how I invested time and effort in the preparations for that wedding. But if I have to be honest, my strongest emotion, which overcame the others, was a sincere happiness and affection for the two idiots who were dining with me. It was gratifying to know for sure that they were about to experience their dream wedding. I can't say that I also didn't feel some weight in my chest … Like a nostalgia for something that wasn't even finished yet, I don't know. Still, I was used to that feeling and I easily diluted it in my other emotions.

My way of expressing this varied set of emotions was putting the palms of my hands on the top of their heads, ruffling their hair and ignoring the grumbling that followed my gesture. Like I'd stop ever picking on those silly grumps!

I was laughing at their annoyance and widely appreciating that lighter and cheerful moment until our main dish, chosen by Vash, reached our table, causing a drastic change in the atmosphere and making my eyes and Roderich's simultaneously widen.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello again, dear readers! Welcome to the new chapter of this story!_

(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)

_First, as always, I want to thank miss Zeplerfer for her amazing help with the translation of this fic and I also want to give my special thanks to Vikusa-san(**If you like slow built you will be very happy with this fic. Believe **), miss Zeplerfer again(**you're a sweetie and also, of course, I made Gilbert a good brother! It's canon that he truly loves and cares about his little brother.**), to the Guest from Sweeden who made extremely happy saying that I managed to become international(**that makes me sound powerful somehow!XD**) and to Nihonko(**I'm so sorry about the lack of "action" - yep, I do get what you mean, OMFG, that made me laugh a little to be honest!**) for all your lovely and precious reviews! I also would like to give my special thanks to everyone who liked and followed this fic! Thank you so much, guys._

_I'm sincerely grateful about all the support this fic is getting and if it's not not too much to ask, I would like to continue receiving it because this truly makes me happy and motivated. Oh! And I hope that you will have loads of fun reading this new chapter!_

_Have a great day and until next time!_

＼（○＾ω＾○）／

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 06.<span>

The main dish was a medium-sized fish. Even worse, it was one of those dishes in which the fish was served complete with its head, tail and all the rest.

At the very moment that I realized that, a protective instinct came with full force on me.

"Fuck! What the fuck is this?! What the fuck this is doing here?!" I tried to pull the fish away from the table. "Waiter, can you take this dish away from here?!"

"What do you think you're doing?!" Vash started screaming.

"What are **you **doing?!" I yelled back at a higher volume. "Rod is scared of fishes!"

Yep. Roderich had a instinctive fear of fish. When I planned his first marriage, I found his refusal to look at the choices of fish for dinner quite odd and I ended up getting an explanation about it in the second one.

Dead or alive, fish made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't avoid it. His heartbeats increased and felt like he was about to throw up every single time he saw one. For him, fish were as repulsive as frogs and spiders are for some people. Don't explain or question phobias, guys. Just help the people who have it to avoid what scares them. Period. Fuck all that talk of "_You must confront your fears._" There's no need to force a person to have a terrible experience because of the impatience and incomprehension of certain assholes.

To my deep irritation, Vash's reaction was a rather snobbish one.

"That was the stupidest story I've heard in years." He snorted.

This was the first time in the entire history of Roderich's wedding organization in which I felt like punching Vash in the face.

"I'm being serious here!" I insisted. "Looking at their eyes distresses him and...!"

"He's kidding, right?" He turned to the aristocrat, believing that whole scene was an weird joke or something. "Roderich, you can't really have this ridiculous fear. It's just a fish…"

"NO WAY! Really?" I widened my eyes in mocking amazement, as if he had made the revelation of the century, carrying my voice with raw and corrosive cynicism. "'A fish is just a fish'… Wow!" I opened my arms widely. At that time, my irritation was clearly exposed. "Now, Roderich's phobia has entirely vanished! If only someone had told him that before!"

"I don't like your sarcastic attitude, Mr. Beilschmidt," he complained, frowning at me.

"Well, I don't like to see a person being mocked for their fear, jerk." I returned the same expression to him. "Roderich is **your **fiancé. If anything, you should be the first to defend him."

After that last comment, there was a moment of silence between us, in which our eyes remained fighting. Fixed on each other in an intense and electric confrontation. As a matter of honor, I decided that I wouldn't be the first to divert mine for anything in the world!

… Or so I intended, but "this" happened.

"Gilbert, please…" The young lord grabbed the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

Just like that, my aggressive stance was instantly dismantled by his weak and reluctant voice.

Urgh. What the hell was wrong with me? There I was, wasting my energy yelling at his groom while Rod was anxious and nervous. Great help.

"What?" I asked, turning my body and all my attention to his side.

"Please, forget it," he asked, covering his extremely pale face with one hand. I hated to see him like this. "Can we order another dish and pretend nothing happened?"

"As you wish, young lord," I agreed immediately. "Hey. Do you know if they serve goose here?"

For some probably ridiculous reason, Vash gave me a "Ha!" caustic and ironic and then he asked:

"Judging by your attitude, I must conclude that your selfless act conferred you the right to choose the main dish?"

What.

For real? No, really? I was in the real world? This was really happening?

"No, I just remembered that his favorite meat is goose! That's why I asked if they have it here!" I exclaimed with raised eyebrows and a mortified tone.

What was the problem with these people?! They thought that my every move was a personal affront? Come on!

Vash must have realized how ridiculous he sounded, because he began to feel a little embarrassed, after my answer.

"Oh! Hm …" He covered his mouth with one hand and forced a dry cough. "I suppose it's your obligation to know this, since you organized so many menus for his weddings."

"Yep, I'm a fantastic wedding planner like that." I decided to not say anything further about that remark. "Can you ask for the goose and a chocolate dessert before it?"

"Chocolate dessert?"

"He calms down more easily when eating chocolate. Memorize it, Mr. Guillotine. This is one of the fundamental rules in the survival manual 'Living with an aristocrat.'."

"_No wonder my apartment is as stuffed with chocolates as the Easter Bunny's house," _I would have mentioned if I didn't have my formidable social skills.

"Enough with the exaggeration," Vash insisted with his absurd skepticism. "He doesn't even seem nervous."

"You're kidding, right?" I furrowed my eyebrows. In this round, I was the incredulous one. "Look at his face!"

Then, there was a silent pause of a few seconds in which we observed Roderich as two scientists dividing a microscope to track the movements of a cell. The young lord was pale with clenched fists, eyes lower than usual and a slightly trembling lower lip… All these were glaring signs that he wasn't fine and I really hated to see him like that. His helpless and somewhat pathetic appearance filled me with the need to put an arm around his shoulders to support him and it took a huge effort for me to contain myself from doing this.

"What about his face? He appears to be in the same mood as usual," Vash concluded with a shrug.

I realized that there was no way for us to have discussion on that subject. It would be like arguing about the M theory with a kid learning multiplication tables.

"Urgh! Never mind, forget it! We don't have time to give you a class on body language." I groaned in frustration, shaking my head fiercely. Apparently, I couldn't count on Roderich's groom to help, so I had to take the control of the situation by myself. "Rod, how are you? Do you want your dessert now?" I asked, changing in 180 degrees my attitude from one person to another.

"I … wouldn't refuse a dessert." He replied, biting the inside of the cheek, like a proud child being forced to apologize.

I felt a stupid grin growing in the corners of my mouth. Oh, Rod. That aristocrat could be so silly with his defensive manners.

"Well done, good boy." I gave light patting the top of his head, looking at the young lord with a warm tenderness that I couldn't avoid in that context. "Is there anything else that we can get you?"

"Actually, there was a wine that I've been wanting to try…" he replied, frowning in discomfort, still not entirely recovered from that awful experience but trying to.

"Indeed." Vash suddenly remembered. "You mentioned it in the car."

"Oh, do you mean that sixty-year-old Spanish wine?" I remembered too. "I remember its name but I don't know how to pronounce it. Can you get me a paper?

"Er… It was a white wine?" Vash asked Roderich, as if I wasn't even there.

Geez, I had just said that I knew the wine. He wanted to turn that into a dispute?

"Bzzz! Wrong. It's a red wine." I corrected with way less humor, writing the name of the wine on a napkin.

"Recently, I noticed that you always ask for wine when we go to restaurants." I was ignored once more. "Is this your favorite drink?"

"Bzzz! His favorite drink is hot coffee mixed with chocolate." I corrected again, while showing the napkin to the waiter and taking advantage of his proximity to indicate the dishes that we selected on the menu. "He also has a secret and unexpected fondness for strawberry milky… Don't even ask. He will never admit it."

Finally, Vash acknowledged my presence. The annoying thing is that he did it in a totally unnecessary offended way.

"Thank you for your contributions, Mr. Beilschmidt," he said severely, in what was the most ungrateful thanks I have received over the years. "The next time that we need your opinion, we will make it clear," he finished, harsh and direct.

That should have been my cue to let them have a "couple moment", which was my goal at the beginning of dinner. As I said, I had initial intended to act with magnanimous dignity and not demand more attention than I should receive given my professional position. I was cool with that. However, I didn't like to be **blatantly kicked out of the conversation **and I decided that retaliation was necessary. Ah, so it was like that? That stupid couple would get what they deserved. I would turn the V of Vash into a V of Vendetta!

Ha, ha! I had some means to cause discomfort at the table and I would use them without restraint!

Vash wanted me to stay out of the conversation and Roderich wanted me to pay attention to it. Even though that didn't mean that he was inviting me to join them.

Okay, okay. If that's what they wished.

For the next several minutes, I didn't actively participate in their conversation. I was silent, eating my dinner and making my dish the center of my visual field. Meanwhile, the wine, a piece of chocolate dessert and three plates of goose arrived at our table.

I just made some occasional small interventions in their dialogue.

"One of these days, I met a relative of yours at the supermarket," Vash said, starting a dialogue about personal topics. "What is the name of that cousin of yours who has a twin sister with a louder personality?

"Madeleine." I answered, concentrating on chewing my goose with more force than was necessary.

"… Speaking of relatives, I was saying to Lily that we were very fortunate to get all the bridesmaids to wear dresses of your favorite color. Violet, right?"

"Indigo," I corrected.

There were about four scenes like those before Vash decided it was time to cut me off again.

"You certainly learned a lot about Roderich while you were offering your services." he said sarcastically. "What exactly does a wedding planner need to know about his customer? His favorite music? Zodiac sign? Blood type? Favorite season? Most watched musical?"

I could have retorted that with a teasing remark or a with a proud mention of my great memory. Instead, what came out of my mouth was:

"The Rachmaninov's second piano concerto. Scorpio. AB positive. Autumn. Phantom of the Opera."

And for some reason, the sincere and unadorned response was far more compelling than any provocation that I could think of.

When I shut my mouth, I noticed the deep and grave silence that followed my speech.

Shit.

I had stepped over the line. In metaphorical terms, I'm not talking about a clumsy slip that leads us to accidentally go a few inches over the line. I'm talking about a Formula One driver crossing the line in a race car without brakes.

Damn. Damn. All because I forgot, for a moment, my motto for the evening. Implications and teasing aside, I was Roderich's wedding planer. The wedding planner! A hired professional.

When a wedding planner enters a competition of who has more knowledge about a groom with his partner, it's natural to conclude that there is something wrong there. Especially if this wedding planner wins the freaking competition.

It was very likely that I had sent an inappropriate message and I didn't know which one of us was in the worst situation. It wasn't Rod's fault if I had memorized an encyclopedia of information about him and I didn't act properly when I exposed my knowledge to his groom, as if challenging him. My words could have led to a great misunderstanding. We all had different reasons to be concerned about what had happened.

Still, my major and immediate concern was Rod.

When I raised my eyes, the young lord was staring fixedly at the table.

Fixedly. As if concentrating to see through it. There was such a vivid determination in the direction of his gaze… It was almost like he was watching the only object in the world. Maybe he _wished _that was the only object in the world. I wouldn't doubt. There was something strange with Rod.

A peculiar and anxious glow around his dilated pupils. A slight tremor running through the extension of his body. I can guarantee you one thing… In those six years, I had noticed and memorized dozens of variations in the expressions of the young lord, but I had never seen that one.

I had no idea what was going on in his mind and that scared me. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. His breathing was fast and his shoulders were tense. Not to mention that he was dodging my eyes insistently. I tried and failed so many times to communicate silently with him, that I was about to put my hand on his chin and turn his face to me in a critical attempt to understand what he was storing into his eyes.

I was terrified because, let's be honest, I've had many fights with the Rod, but never a serious fight! Was this his angry face when he was truly angry? How upset he was? How screwed was **I**? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hey, Rod." I tried to call his attention, grabbing his arm. To my shock, he practically jumped out of his chair when I touched him. I can't deny that it felt like a slap on the face to see how quickly he pulled away from me. I have no idea if I could disguise the flash of pain and confusion that hit me.

Well, it would have made little difference if I had disguised it. Even when he was up, Roderich continued to avoid me and he was facing the other way.

"I'm going to the toilet now," he announced rushed with a contained restlessness in his appearance that was very distressing to me. "Excuse me.

So Vash and I were abandoned at that table, like two lonely men shipwrecked on a lifeboat.

We stood there, fidgeting with our cutlery in discomfort and silence, wondering what to say at a time like this.

Urgh… Actually, there was something to say. It was hard to admit it, but I couldn't deny that I was to blame for the disaster at that dinner. I had my revenge and I was not happy with the consequences of it. I needed to fix the situation.

"Listen, Vash." I turned to his side and, for the first in months of service, I actually cared to show my seriousness and professionalism to that guy. "You made a tough admission and I'm too noble to not repay you, so I'll confess …" I inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. That was so uncomfortable. Urgh … "I-I was angry about being the one left out of whatever you guys were talking about but I don't want you to think I'm trying to offend you or suggest stupid things. That said, my infallible memory is one of my many qualities," I argued, seeking to reduce the damage I had caused. "So I memorized information about Rod, as I would memorize about any of my clients. It's my job, you know. For a wedding planner, this is not an achievement or a big surprise. We invest a lot of time in trying to create a wedding based on the groom or bride's tastes, so we always end up knowing a little more about them than necessary. Let alone Roderich's particular case, in which I had to please him three times! Really there was nothing much in what I said. I was just trying to tease you."

There, I had done my part and as soon as I finished my explanation, I began to wait for Vash's attack. He was an expert in being skeptical and a professional in the art of being offended. Yet, compared to the reaction I was expecting, his expression was remarkably serene. He didn't come at me with accusations and interrogations. Instead, he remained in a soft reflective silence and pondered well his choice of words.

"I understand. I'm not mad at you." He took a deep breath, with eyes closed. If his new expression was not the epitome of joy and friendliness, at least, it was much less defensive and hostile than I was used to. "I complained of your petulance when I could receive a similar accusation. Realizing that I know so little of the person I'm about to marry… It's scary."

Suddenly, my chest filled with empathy for the person in front of me.

"Nah, you will do a good job." I smiled softly, looking at the bottom of my plate. "The young lord isn't easy to decipher. I was hired three times to fulfill his wishes and I still could create a whole wikipedia with my doubts." I laughed briefly, shaking my head. "You met again recently and it's only natural that you have to learn many new details about him. Don't worry. If you preserve your curiosity and fascination, I'm sure you will understand him little by little."

Vash had his faults. He was awkward and a little insensitive about the others' feelings. He was surly, his collection of weapons was the most boring topic in the world, and he treated his fifteen year old sister as if she were nine. However, he was truly in love with the young lord.

He was just a misguided groom trying to orient himself in the aristocratic complexity of Roderich Eldestein. Heck, I could sympathize with the poor guy.

"Thank you." He gave me the hint of a smile. "Your stupid provocation opened my eyes."

"No probs! That's why I'm here!" I answered with a radiant smile, feeling a considerable improvement in my mood. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, stupid provocations and revelations are a 'must have' in the organization of a wedding!"

I had barely finished my last line, when the young lord returned to the table with a countenance that was grave and maybe even more haggard than before. He looked terrible. Pale, exhausted, with little humor and a lot of resentment.

Noticing his state, I wanted to show as soon as possible that everything was resolved, to reassure him and make him return to his usual stoic manners. I always hated to see Roderich upset.

"Well, now that I and Vash have released our sexual tension, we shall discuss more professional issues," I declared, stretching my hands to flex my arms in a single movement, releasing the latest tensions in my body.

That was my way of saying "Hey, hey! I handled the situation, Rod! You can relax! Do you think I would make a sexual joke about a guy who has a collection of firearms if we were still even the slightest bit fed up with each other? Hell no! Don't underestimate my absolute and supreme intelligence like that, young lord! It's all settled. Now, let's enjoy the evening and overcome this incident!", which was my plan for the rest of dinner.

"I have rented a ballroom for your waltz practice and I filled a flash drive with more than a hundred music options," I continued, very pleased with myself and confident that if the young lord didn't get excited by this news (which was super-mega-likely and nothing alarming because he rarely became excited in any scenario that didn't involve a piano), at least he would return to his standard level of bad mood. "Tomorrow, you start rehearsals for the newlyweds' dance."

"Wait a minute." Vash frowned. "Isn't this a bit late for choosing the music?"

Ha! I had predicted that they would have this concern, but I was saving an a trump card in my sleeve! A trump card? I'm being modest! I had a top trump, an ace and a checkmate in my sleeve!

"Now is the best time to start the rehearsals." I assured him with a flaming enthusiasm that led me to raise my arms, my chin and the corners of my mouth with the gestures of a magician about to impress his audience. "Tcha-ran! I know that the choice of the waltz is your favorite part of the preparations, aristocrat, so I left it to the end to make you more comfortable during the rehearsals. It's okay, it's okay! You may cry with happiness! Don't refrain yourself, young lord! Celebrating the end of your part of the job is why we're here. Leave the rest to me. You guys only need to wear your suits, climb on the altar, don't forget your vows, and then make out in front of the judge. Just be careful to not confuse the order!"

In my mind, I was listening to the sound of thousands of applause and waiting for the sounds of eternal admiration of the Guillotine and Rod as a simple but significant background.

"You must be, at the same time, the worst and the best wedding planner in the world," Vash admitted with such a small smile that it would go unnoticed by a viewer with less experience.

"Thank you, Artillery! I'll ignore the confusing-and-probably-said-in-a-feverish-delirium start of your sentence!" I said excitedly, turning then to the young master, expectantly. "What about you, Rod? Any word of eternal gratitude to my awesome self?"

I made that whole surprise thinking about Roderich! Obviously his answer was the one was more anxious about!

Would he repay me with a shy admission that I was the most amazing wedding planner in the universe? With a sullen oath to give my name to his first foster child? With a resigned silence of deep reverence? What was he going to say? How would he answer? I was so excited because surely his next words and actions would make all my effort worthwhile, no matter what! I loved watching how funny the young lord was when he was happier than he had the courage to admit. I just wanted to see his face! As it was embarrassing for him, Rod definitely recognize that…!"

"I need to thank you for doing your job?" he asked, neutral and impassive.

… This was not how I was hoping he would react to my surprise. He barely bothered to lift his eyes from the table to talk to me.

'Course, the aristocrat wasn't the personification of joy or gratitude. I never assumed that he would jump with happiness and start to dance over the table after hearing my news, no matter how epic that image would be. However, that answer was simply **cold**. I mean, I put a lot of effort into successfully organizing our schedule like that and his reaction didn't show the slightest trace of acknowledgement about all that I had been though. To be more precise, he was so irascible, at that moment, that I got the impression that it would have been better if I had not organized anything for him.

"I'll replace your question mark with a exclamation point, young lord." I replied sarcastically, in a bad mood, frowning. I leaned forward and launched my last words at him slowly and aggressively, as if about to spit them in his face. "You. Are. Welcome."

"Roderich, there's no need to be so hard on him…" muttered hesitantly Mr. Artillery, too scared about that suddenly revealed glacial portion of his fiancé's personality to be more firm in his defense.

How ironic.

Vash was the person with one of the lowest levels of intimacy with me and who used to disapprove the most, but he was the person who defended me against the aristocrat's silent, intense and irreducible hostility.

For reasons not openly shared with us, after leaving us to go to the bathroom, Roderich became increasingly sullen and obscure. The only thing I could deduce was that he was upset with me for putting him in a delicate position in relation to his future husband. However, it was a bit tricky to understand the strength of his offense and was especially difficult to understand what was keeping him grumpy when Vash himself had already made peace with me. Frankly, I had no idea what was happening. Was Rod just holding a huge grudge or was there a point there that I was missing?

Either way, he neither addressed a single word to me nor looked at me directly for the rest of dinner. I couldn't blame him though. I had it coming.

* * *

><p>AN: _Yeah, the reason why I cut the other chapter in a abrupt part and left this one longer is because I'm strongly against that whole tendency of making the exes or actual romantic partners of one of the main characters become villains when this notion is just wrong. So I wanted to show that Gilbert really fucked up this time and that he knows that he fucked up and that's why he can handle it in a adult manner. Also, since Vash isn't a villain, I wanted to show that despite his faults, he's only human and he's trying his best. Though he has to improve in many aspects he's not entirely blind to it and that's why he reacts in an adult manner to Gilbert's apology and admits that he was also wrong._

_If I simply cut the chapter at the part where Gilbert realized that he fucked up everything, many readers would probably think something like "YEAH! Show Vash who knows more about Roderich!" when my message is the exact opposite of it. At the same way, while Vash fucked up in some matters, Gilbert fucked up in that one. Because they're humans and they have flaws and all that. His action wasn't romantic or proper at all. Even if it shows a considerate side of him, the way and the context make this action a big mistake and Gilbert himself realized it. That said, I configured this chapter to be more fair with the personality of all the characters involved in this mess. I don't know if I explained myself very well but that's it!_


	7. Chapter 7

Hello guys! It's been a while, right? Sorry about that but don't worry! I'm still going to update this fic frequently. Especially since lately I've been gaining more support of the international part of the fandom than I get writting in my own language. No, seriously. You guys are awesome and you deserve many virtual hugs and 100 points to your house in Hogwarts.

Now, I would like to give my special thanks to lovely, wonderful, truly generous miss Zeplerfer who helped me a lot by making revisions on my translation and leaving a review(**Glad you liked this chapter, dear, Gilbert calls Vash of Guillotine because Vash loves to talk about the weapons created during the French Revolution!**), also to Noire Nightmare(**Thanks for praising the way how I deal with the maneirisms of the characters because that's a important part of my writting! I'm very glad to see that you've been impressed so far and I hope that I can keep you in this way for the rest of the story.**), Autumn Moon Fae(**I love your review AND your name! Yep, I had the intention of making the two characters very human and it's good to hear that people could understand my point.**), CardFighter By Marple(**Your review made me laugh and smile a lot because it's just so honest and straight-foward! I like you!XD**) and Steelgray(**Oh, dear! Many emotional moments are yet to come so BE PREPARED! - "Scar singing voice"**) for leaving amazing reviews that served as my motivation to keep translating this work and to everybody that favorited and/or followed this fanfiction.

ヾ(・∀・｀*)ﾉ

I really hope that I can keep you guys that interested in my works and I really wish to see you in a near future. Have fun and have a lovely day! Cya ~

＼（○＾ω＾○）／

PS: Kinda short chapter because the next one is going to be huge.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 07.<span>

On the next day, I received no calls or e-mails from Roderich and that was when I started to get scared. The young lord contacted me regularly, including on dates in which it was hard to find a good excuse for it, so it was a very worrisome thing to see that he was completelysilent about the wedding rehearsal.

Not even a message with complaints about the ballroom that I rented or some grumpy words about last night.

As a comfort, I tried to convince myself of this … Hey, don't let the aristocrat distort your common sense. Usually, clients don't contact their wedding planners every day. Don't be nervous because of a single day in which he didn't talk with you. Sure, it was a super important day, but it was one day. Maybe he forgot to pay the electricity bill? He hates paying bills. Maybe he forgot his phone at home?

After I finished my problems at work, I went to my apartment, ordered a large pizza and started a game night with my friends online. Since there was less than two weeks left before the wedding, there was few things left to do but the waiting, so I had more free time on my hands and, man, I would enjoy it fully. My morning was free the next day, which basically meant: time for a marathon of "Dead Island".

It would be nice to forget some of that stuff about weddings and young lords with drastic changes in temperament and just relax and distract myself with the slaughter of zombies on an island.

A 600 mililiters bottle of soda, four pieces of pizza and three dozen zombies later, my intercom started buzzing, leaving me very suspicious and astonished. After all, except for the pizza that was already on my plate, I hadn't ordered anything eles so I wasn't expecting anyone.

Very quickly, I said goodbye to my friends and got up to answer it, dodging pillows scattered along the way.

"What?" I asked impatiently on the intercom.

"Good evening. There is a visitor for you, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"What?! A visitor?!" I may have screamed it too loudly because I wasn't prepared for this at all. Something weird was going on. "I'm not expecting any visitors!"

I heard in a voice in the distance, my doorman warning "_He said he isn't expecting any visitors_!" and the equally loud answer from my visitor, shouting something like "_That's nonsense! Let me go up immediately! What part of my appearance suggests that I am a burglar?_".

I covered my face with the palm of my hand. There was no need for a familiar picture or a sound to recognize the identity of my visitor. Among my acquaintances, there was only one person who could give a reply like that…

"Should I send him away, Beilschmidt?"

_Goodbye, my peaceful night. I deserve this._

"No, no. Wait. I think I know this person," I sighed, pressing the center of my forehead and shaking my head sideways, already regretful. "You can let him in."

"As you wish. Good evening, sir Beilschmidt."

"Good night, dude, and good luck on your work."

Since I was 91% sure of the identity of who was coming to my flat, I concluded that was the end of my game marathon. I said goodbye to the guys, put the pizza in the fridge and the cushions over the couch, heard the bell and went to the door.

Through the peephole, I could see the young lord. To my relief, he seemed "normal" again. No eyes on the floor, rapid breathing or a uncomfortably uneasy expression. Only the good old Eldestein in his (comically) stoic appearance. After seeing him back to normal, I put my hand on his chest and let out through my mouth all the air from my lungs at once. Phew.

"What are you doing in my apartment at 11 PM, Rod?" I asked, opening the door, while using my arm to block his entry.

"This is not the right way to receive a visitor," was the answer he gave me, while dodging me, until finally slipping through the space under my arm to invade my house and settle on my couch. Just like his visits to my office to request my services, his movements showed without any shame a carefree and totally annoying nonchalance.

"This is not the right way to _make _a visit!" I exclaimed equally amazed and accusatory. "I checked my email and my phone all day and I am 124% sure that you didn't inform me that you were coming here, aristocrat!"

"It was not obvious that if I didn't give news all day, I would come at night?" he asked, as if that reasoning were perfectly logical.

Damn it. The young lord was really someone special. In the worst and best possible ways. Simultaneously.

"It's amazing how someone like you really exists in this world!" I opened both my mouth and my eyes widely. I'm not gonna to lie, at that moment, I was kinda dazzled by him. "Sit on my couch and wait a minute." I surrendered, moving my shoulders to stretch them and heading for the counter of my kitchen. "I'm going to prepare two cups of cappuccino. If we're talking in the night, we'll need a little caffeine first."

"The empty bottle of Coca-Cola does not suggest to me that you need another dose of caffeine," he pointed out, lowering his eyelids with some disapproval.

How ironic on his part, complain about my amount of caffeine, considering that he was the reason why I needed much, much more of that substance in my blood.

"Well, young lord, being so awesome all the time consumes a lot of energy!" I snapped, turning a bit my head to relax the tension in my neck. "I don't know about you but I need a cappuccino now!"

There was a short silent pause, anticipating what I already knew Roderich would answer.

"I also want one," he said to me in a low volume.

"Tell me something new." A smile escaped the edges of my mouth. "Young lord, you are the biggest coffee fan I know. Do you want me to put Nutella on the edges of the cup?"

Another predictable pause.

"Please."

I let out a small sigh and smiled again.

"Hey, Rod. I'm aware that you hate spending money and such but still, I don't understand why you don't have a decent coffee machine by now," I commented, picking up the pods to put in the machine. "I mean, it costs less to buy instant coffee and prepare it at the ordinary way, but I know you can't compare that kind of coffee with the one made with good beans in a decent machine. You have piles of money. Why don't you stop renting an ice statue at every wedding and use the money to purchase a good coffee machine? If you want to be stingy, aristocrat, it is important to pick the right priorities."

"Your opinion is biased," he huffed, crossing his arms. "You always had a bad relationship with my ice statues."

"Pfff. Truth." I laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway, you like the coffee I make, right? Get your own machine to prepare them. I don't even like coffee that much and I have one of these."

Judging by the disaffected way he watched me over the lenses of his glasses, the young lord wasn't too impressed by my arguments.

"You also have an umbrella-hat that you have never used, a necklace made of screws that you only used for a Halloween party, and a lighter that glows in the dark, although you do not smoke …" he listed in a soft voice with subtle criticism. "If you buy ten thousand items on impulse, some of them, obviously, will be useful. How many of your objects ended up in my house in these last six years?"

"Lucky you!" I exclaimed, arching my eyebrows and barely containing my laugh. "It's an economy for you, after all!"

"I cannot see how I saved any money by storing three lucky pandas charms in my closet." He curled his lips in disapproval.

"Of course you can't see how! If they give you luck, your gain was indirect!" I opened my arms, letting a smirk forming on one of the corners of my mouth. "Simple simple answer, young lord."

It was then that happened one of those rare and unique moments whose mere existence was almost unbelievable.

"You're terrible, Gilbert," he spoke with a subtle little smile that passed by his expression like a moving shadow.

I got distracted so much with this surreal vision that almost left our cups overflow. Then, realizing that a few drops were falling on my leg, I woke up and quickly turned off the machine. The panic rushed my movements and I finished putting the Nutella in our cups in record time.

"Here's your cappuccino." I picked up our cups and went to my couch, sitting down beside the young lord. My couch had three places. Roderich was in the middle, so I was on his left, the closest side to the kitchen. "Be careful because it's hot, okay?" I warned, passing the cup to his hands.

Turns out that warning Rod to be careful because the drink was hot was like telling the fire to stop spreading through the forest because it burns. Entirely useless.

As soon as he touched the surface of the porcelain cup with the tips of his fingers – why he didn't take it by its handle like a normal person?, don't ask me – he immediately let it go, as if taken by surprise with the heat, and jumped to the other side of the couch, letting it fall to the floor and spilling its contents on the cushions and over the floor tiles. If I had not jumped off the sofa, one of my legs would be affected as well.

Fortunately, since the young lord had retreated to the other end of the sofa and was more safe than most of the people on the planet, there was no need for me to ignore my annoyance to focus on a emergency at hand and therefore I could I authorize myself to get angry about what happened.

Goddamnit, aristocrat!

"I just told you to be careful, Rod!" I yelled unabashedly upset. Those pillows had been washed only few days ago!

"I didn't think it was that hot!" he dared to protest. "It's your fault!"

What? Really?! He'd put the blame on ME?!

"Mine?! I warned that the cup was hot!"

"Y-Yes, but you should … should not have given me such a hot cup, in the first place!"

As soon as he finished speaking, our eyes met and, little by little, mine were filled with mockery and his with defensiveness. We both knew very well that this excuse was terrible.

"Oh, Rod." I smiled and lightly pulled one of his cheeks. Pfff! They stretched so much!

"Stop it," he muttered, his voice coming through the corners of his mouth, looking in a dull and slightly embarrassed way to the sides.

"At least, we were lucky." As my mood that night was fantastic, I sought to be optimistic. "Your cup didn't break so I'll clean up this mess and prepare another cappucino for you." I decided, cleaning my palms on my pants and heading to the kitchen to pick up a mop to dry my furniture and the floor. "It was a legitimate mistake on my part to deliver you such a hot drink!" I remembered to comment, pausing for a second, in the kitchen, to smile widely for the aristocrat. I had a look of pity and sympathy so, so, so intentionally false it would be disappointing to see it confused with real compassion. "This time, I will blow it for you and serve it in small spoonfuls, and when you are older, I will teach you about the use of cutlery and other …!"

"I get the idea, Gilbert!" He interrupted me. Raising his voice with impatience at first, which was more hilarious than intimidating. Then, as if there was startled by his own tone, he changed his position on the conflict, making it a little more friendly and resigned, while I returned to the room and focused on cleaning of my furniture. Possibly he wanted to keep his pride and, as the saying goes, if you can't beat them, pretend you didn't want to beat them anyway and that such disputes were too wild for the most respectable members of society take part. "Very well! I'm not going to oppose your habit of picking on me." He snorted rather snobbish. "For a quality cappuccino, even this terrible hypothetical scenario you proposed becomes relatively acceptable."

"'Habit of picking up on you,' huh?" I repeated, kneeling before the couch while cleaning the last traces of spilled cappuccino, amused by his choice of words. "I don't plan to defend myself." I got up and shrugged while showing him a half-smile. "Your face is extremely funny when you're so embarrassed that you pin your guilt on others. Also, I'm glad to hear you directly assuming that you love my cappuccino more than anything in this universe, so I'm gonna add some cinnamon on top as a bonus to you."

Then, I headed back to the kitchen, intending to throw the dirty and wet cloth in the sink and prepare a new cappuccino for Roderich. I got distracted performing these tasks, only returning to watch Rod after finish them. In fact, I was just about to pick up my neglected cup to drink its contents, waiting for my coffee machine complete its work, when I came across something that confused me for a moment.


End file.
